


Shards

by yamtempura



Category: DBSK|Tohoshinki|TVXQ
Genre: Breathplay, Dubious Consent, M/M, Painplay, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-25
Updated: 2013-10-25
Packaged: 2017-12-30 09:59:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1017240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yamtempura/pseuds/yamtempura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Changmin wants Yunho, but his past and his preferences get in his way, until they don't</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shards

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to Mika, who indulges me with my terrible, terrible shipping headcanons. There are a lot of weird consent issues in here, so please head the warnings. Also, this is my first foray into this fandom so nothing like starting off with a bang.

The wind is blowing through his hair. 

They are outside at some program that Changmin had lost interest in ages ago, but of course Yunho, perfect Yunho, is still standing there with a smile sunnier than the reflection of the actual thing off his sunglasses, talking animatedly with the PD about whatever they were about to do next and Changmin finds himself so mesmerised by the play of the wind through Yunho’s hair, he frowns and crosses his arms over his chest, watching him. The PD puts a friendly arm on Yunho’s shoulder. 

Changmin doesn’t even realise he’s striding over towards them until he’s halfway there. His frown deepens, especially when it takes more than a minute for Yunho to notice him. 

“It’s getting pretty late, hyung,” he says. “We should eat something today.” 

Yunho nods. “Of course – go grab a bite. I’ll catch up later.” 

Changmin resists the urge to scowl harder. It’s not just the dismissal, which he knows isn’t what Yunho was meaning, but there’s worry mingled in that maybe Yunho is pushing himself just that little bit too far this time. Yunho hasn’t had anything since the vitamin drink he used for breakfast. Changmin knows. Chagmin has been watching. 

He digs in his heels and waits. It’s what he’s always done anyway. 

… 

It’s not even that Yunho is perfect, Changmin thinks as he breaks to catch his breath, trying to mop up the sweat pouring down the back of his neck with a towel. He’s a workaholic. He’s a morning person, even before coffee, even if he’s only had three hours of sleep. He leaves the lids off his food before sticking them in the fridge so that all the smells mingle and everything ends up tasting strange. 

Changmin cracks open the lid to a water bottle as he watches Yunho go through the dance steps again with one of their backup dancers. But that’s the thing. Even his flaws somehow come together to make up a person that makes up such a huge portion of who Changmin is. How is he not supposed to love someone like that? 

The dancer says something that makes Yunho throw back his head and laugh, sliding an arm around the man’s shoulder to pull him into a friendly half-hug. 

Jealousy, black and vile and savage rises up from Changmin’s stomach and he attempts to drown it with his water. 

… 

“Closer!” the photographer yells, and Yunho leans in so that his cheek is not even centimetres away from Changmin’s nose, still giving eyes to the camera. Changmin can smell the makeup and the hairspray and underneath it, something that is just Yunho. His gaze drops to Yunho’s lips, his own mouth falling relaxed, and he hears the camera clicking, but all he can think about is reaching forward and maybe pressing his lips against his. How would he taste? Would he kiss him back? 

_“Your mouth is only good for one thing, Changminnie, and it’s sure as fuck not kissing.”_

_Changmin can’t even attempt to speak, choking on the cock shoved roughly into his throat, drool leaking down his chin, so he lets his eyes do the talking, glaring up through tear dampened lashes at the figure holding his hair in a painful grip._

Changmin jerks back slightly when the familiar voice rings out through his head, and he’s tasting bile and shamed arousal, so he asks if he can have a quick break. The photographer has barely agreed before Changmin strides off to the washroom, his head held high until he locks the door. Only then does he collapse against it, holding a shaking hand to his mouth, trying to calm himself. 

Yunho might be perfect, but Changmin is oh-so-broken. 

… 

“What is the best feature about Yunho-ssi?” The question has come so many times that Changmin has a formulated answer, one that doesn’t leave him bare and exposed. 

“He has a handsome face,” he replies calmly, unable to stop himself from looking over at it as he talks. “His nose is good too.” Yunho smiles at him and he can’t help but smile back. He doesn’t go on to tell the interviewer about how Yunho knows exactly how he likes his coffee or how when Changmin is tired, he lets him rest his head on his shoulder, and how somehow Yunho is always, always ahead of him, blazing the way, but isn’t afraid to turn around and catch him if need be. Yunho is Changmin’s rock and somehow he is still nigh unreachable and how the contradiction tears him two and makes his blood boil to simply _possess_ him. 

He isn’t even sure he understands it. 

… 

Yunho’s eyes are underlined again, Changmin notices. He is always asleep before him, so he doesn’t actually know how late he stays up, but since even Changmin doesn’t usually go to bed until after one, it has to be later than that. 

“Are you sleeping, hyung?” he asks as he pours himself a cup of coffee that he had set up the night before to brew in the morning. 

“Of course,” Yunho scoffs, digging into his eggs and toast. “Don’t worry about me.” 

“Don’t make me worry,” Changmin says tartly, slamming his coffee down on the table in order to go get his own breakfast. “I have enough on my plate already.” 

Yunho just smiles. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

Changmin wants to slam _him_ against the breakfast table and mark him from head to toe and leave him _whimpering_ to show him exactly how much he didn’t want him _sorry_ , he just wants him. 

Instead, he rolls his eyes and sips his coffee, feeling his tongue burn slightly. 

… 

_“You can never fucking give, can you?”_

_Jaejoong’s hot breath and long hair brushed against the back of his neck. He could already feel the bruises blooming up and down his side as he gasped for air, Jaejoong’s cock ramming into him like piston._

_“You can fucking take though,” he continued, grabbing a fistful of Changmin’s hair and wrenching his head back, using the leverage to make the snap of his slim hips even more painful. A half-snarl, half-whine bubbled out of Changmin’s throat as the pain sharpened, razor thin and tearing at his insides. “You are so fucking hungry for my cock, aren’t you? A complete slut for me.”_

_“Fuck you,” Changmin frothed, heat making everything coil tightly. He was going to explode all over his own bed, although it wasn’t the first time he had been made to sleep in his own mess. “You fucking –ah, uhn!”_

_Jaejoong just laughed and pulled his head back farther, scraping his nails across the line of Changmin’s throat hard enough to leave welts. “Come for me, little Changminnie, come for me filled only with my cock like the hungry whore you are…”_

Changmin jerks up from his sleep, soaked in sweat and with the most painful hard-on he’s had in years. Before his conscious can catch up with himself, he grips his cock hard in his hand, jerking roughly, frantically, pushing his pants down with the other and digging his nails into the tender flesh of his inner thigh just to feel the bite of it. Sweat pools at the base of his spine, and he digs his thumb under the crown of his cock, feeling the zip of pain shoot down his thighs to his toes. 

In his mind’s eye, Jaejoong’s smirk melts into Yunho’s smile and suddenly he’s imagining Yunho calling out his name, simply _wrecked_ and Changmin is the one laughing and biting and taunting, and the scene is enough to send him over the edge. Changmin arches high, spilling ropes of cum all up his abdomen and stomach, his mind whiting out, just barely managing to close his lips against the load groan that explodes from his throat. 

It wasn’t until he had collapsed back on the bed, his body languid and loose and _shameful_ , that he realises what just happened. 

“Fuck,” Changmin growls to himself, covering his burning eyes with his hand. Everything has always been twisted inside him. 

… 

He doesn’t look Yunho in the eye for two days. 

Doesn’t mean he doesn’t watch him though. He always watches. 

... 

Another blisteringly hot day, another dance practise in which Changmin barely feels like he can keep up. Yunho dances like it was his soul-given gift. Changmin dances because he manages to find the right positions for his limbs and even that is only after continuous repetition. 

Changmin takes a water bottle and squats down by the mirror to watch. Yunho is going through the motions of their latest number by himself, movement fluid and lovely and Changmin is so entranced, he doesn’t even notice he’s finished his water until he’s simply sucking the mouth of the bottle. 

He stands up and grabs another water. “Hyung, you should drink something,” he says. 

“In a second,” Yunho says, starting the movement over again. 

Changmin sets his lips and grabs Yunho’s shoulder, stilling him. Yunho looks to his face, startled, and Changmin stares him down. “Drink,” he demands, pushing the water bottle into his hand. 

He tries to ignore the little thrill of arousal that shoots down his spine when Yunho complies, and instead turns away to go back to his spot crouched by the wall. He feels Yunho’s eyes on his back the whole way. 

… 

Changmin feels Yunho’s eyes following him now. He meets them when he looks at him, and Changmin fights the urge to look away, and instead stares at him, knowing that if anyone, Yunho can read him like a book. He’s always been open. 

_“Like a fucking novel, Changminnie. I know how much you love it_ .” 

… 

Changmin is drunk. He puts his hand on the wall as he pulls off his shoes, the world tilting dangerously. He’s tilting dangerously, though, so maybe he finally feels like he’s found equilibrium. 

“Changdol?” Yunho looks up at him, going over schedules at the table. He looks tired and strained and Changmin just wants to capture him and hold him and keep him from the world. 

Changmin begins to walk over to him, but stumbles a bit and instantly Yunho is there, holding him up by the shoulders. 

“You should go to bed,” he says, laughing at him, but that quickly dies as soon as Changmin pushes his lips against his. 

_“Your mouth is only good for one thing…_ ” 

Changmin growls against the ghost in his head and pushes harder, wanting to bruise Yunho’s mouth with his, wanting to leave his mark, wanting Yunho to _remember_ him. His tongue licks at the seam of Yunho’s mouth and Yunho just opens for him and he feels the thrill in his stomach, mixing around with the liquor. He tastes like kimchee and salt. 

Changmin stumbles them back towards the wall, pressing him up against it, moving on from his mouth to the dangerously attractive slope of his jaw. 

“Hyung,” he breathes as he presses little kisses down his throat, Yunho’s head sliding back to hit the wall, “please let – I want – please…” 

Even if Yunho had made an objection, he’s not sure if he would stop. He’s not even sure he _could_ stop. He just needs to worship him, wants to show how much Yunho meant to him. This man, this _god_ , his savoir, sex personified. He drops to his knees and begins fumbling with Yunho’s belt. 

“I’ve been,” he breathes, resting his cheek against the cut of Yunho’s hip briefly, trying to stop the world from spinning, but needing to keep moving, “watching you – always watching. Wanting… _so long_.” Finally the belt comes loose and he feels fingers slide into his hair and his breath catches in his throat, waiting for the tug, waiting for the _rip_ , but none came. Instead, there are gentle strokes against his scalp, fingertips brushing against his ears, making him shudder, making his cock _ache_ in his pants. 

“Fuck,” he slurs, mashing his face underneath Yunho’s flat belly, pressing his nose deep into the fine trail of hairs there, his uncoordinated fingers finally managing buttons and zippers. “You are so, so, so perfect. Wanna – wanna make you mine.” He pushes pants and underwear down just enough to release Yunho’s half-hard cock to Changmin’s view. “Wanna make you _cum_.” 

_“Always so hungry for it, Changminnie.”_

He thumbs at the head of Yunho’s cock and just stares for a minute because it’s beautiful and poised and perfect just like him, but then he needs to taste him like he needs his next breath of air and runs his flattened tongue over the tip, feeling it grow and stiffen in his hands. He moans loudly and slides him deep into his mouth, feeling him hit the back of his throat. His eyes close and his hands go to Yunho’s hips, tentatively at first, as if he were going to be burned, but then digs his fingers into the flesh when he finds no protest. 

“Chandol-ahhh,” he hears from above him, and the name moves something deep inside and part of him wants to sob, but the rest just wants Yunho to pour down the back of his throat, to coat his tongue so that he could forever have that taste of Yunho with him. 

He fucks his own mouth over Yunho’s cock, sucking and pressing his tongue up underneath against the vein on the underside. His chin is damp and the repeated bangs to the back of his throat has brought tears to his eyes, but he blinks them back. He’s sloppy and without finesse, but it must have been working as he hears Yunho’s breath hitch and Yunho’s hand curls under Changmin’s chin, lifting his face slightly. 

Changmin groans at the sight above him and knows it’s going to haunt all his fantasies for years to come. Yunho’s face is flushed and sweaty and glowing, his mouth reddened and swollen, his eyes bright and gazing down strongly at him with an emotion that Changmin doesn’t even want to decipher, although at least the lust there was strong. 

A finger brushes the corner of his lips. “Changdol, can I – can I – your mouth?” 

Changmin nearly weeps but instead gives a nod and ups his movements, trying to work faster and suck harder, listening to the groaning noises above him, Yunho leaning his shoulders against the wall and _cradling_ Changmin’s head between his hands so, so gingerly, watching him with a hooded gaze. 

“Chang… ha… I’m – yes, there. S-so good…” 

Changmin whines, begs for it with wordless sounds ( _“Sing for me, Changminnie,”_ ), presses his thumbs deep into Yunho’s thigh muscles. 

Yunho lets out the most beautiful sound he’s heard and he feels the hot splash of his cum hit the back of his throat. He slows down his movements, attempting to milk every portion of Yunho’s orgasm out of him, savouring every shudder. It’s only when Yunho’s knees are shaking that Changmin finally lets him slip out of his mouth. 

He stands up, almost as wobbly on his feet as Yunho at the moment, using the back of his hand to mop up spit and cum from off his chin and takes one good hard look at Yunho, leaning against the wall in glorious afterglow. His heaving chest draws Changmin’s attention to the V of his throat and he wants to be there, biting it black and blue and marked, and he realises what he’s done. Changmin flees into his bedroom, locking the door behind him. 

He curls up on his bed, his room spinning, the taste of Yunho still in his mouth, and promptly passes out. 

… 

He doesn’t emerge for most of the day. Yunho even knocks and asks if he’s okay, and Changmin just pulls the sheet up against his face harder. How could he even begin to face him? After what he did? 

He wants to do it again so badly, his bones ache. 

A delicious smell wafts under his door, and his stomach growls too loudly to ignore. Despite his better judgement, his feet slide to the floor, and he walks over and peers out. 

“You are ridiculous,” Yunho states without looking at him, getting out chopsticks from the drawer. “You come home drunk, blow me, then refuse to come out of your room, except for fried chicken?” 

“And to piss,” Changmin replies in an acidic tone, closing his door behind him as he steps out to the kitchen. 

Dinner is almost normal. 

… 

“No, no, Changmin-ah, like this.” Yunho demonstrates, and of course it’s beautiful and perfect and for the briefest moment, Changmin hates him. 

Snarling, he attempts to repeat the movement, sweat dripping off his face, trying not to fall behind. 

Yunho hums. “Perhaps we’ll just let you stand still during that part instead.” 

“I’ll do it,” he snaps. “Just let me try again.” 

“Of course.” Yunho nods and steps back and Changmin feels eternally guilty. 

“I’ve watched you do it enough times,” he mutters, half to himself. 

Suddenly, other hands are there, supporting his shoulder and elbow, leading him through the movement and he turns to find Yunho’s face incredibly close to his and his breath catches in his throat at just how beautiful Yunho’s features actually are. (He wants to mess them up so badly it makes his chest ache.) 

“Maybe you should stop _watching_ ,” Yunho tells him as he stares him straight in the eye, never wavering. Yunho, always ahead two steps ahead of him. 

Changmin just moans, lost, and smashes his mouth into Yunho’s, his hands going to the sides of his face to hold his head still so he could explore his mouth with his, hard and soft and warm. His hair is already sweaty underneath his fingertips, but he doesn’t care as he shoves his tongue half-way down Yunho’s throat, tasting all his lovely moans. He doesn’t want to miss a single one. 

Changmin backs him against the mirror, propping a leg in between Yunho’s to keep him offbalance, sucking his lip between his and resisting the urge to bite down on it, to taste his blood. 

_The taste of blood and cum in his mouth... Jaejoong’s laughter… Changmin’s hands tied behind his back, snarling and sobbing as he fucked himself against the bed just to get off…_

He drowns the memory out by pushing Yunho’s hands up above his head, trapping them with his one hand by the wrist. He trails his other hand down to Yunho’s stomach, pushing up his shirt to reveal his flat stomach, his golden abs, all unflawed perfection. He burns with the desire to mark him, to write _Mine, everyone else fuck off!!!_ in big purple welts along his skin. 

“Tell me you want me,” Changmin growls in his ear, rubbing his hand over a nipple, listening to the husky whine it results in. 

“F-fuck, Chandol-ah…” 

He jerks his knee up underneath him so that his thigh is rubbing against the heavy, hot outline of Yunho’s cock in his sweatpants. 

“That’s not an answer,” he rasps, taking Yunho’s earlobe in his ear and biting down on it, careful not to break the skin. He has to be so, so careful. Changmin has been cut up inside, all broken shards, but Yunho is beautiful and flawless and Changmin wants to treasure him and cut him up too. 

Yunho’s hands are curling into fists against the mirror, clenching and unclenching rhythmically, his chest heaving against Changmin’s. 

“Yes,” he gasps out and Changmin feels like his heart is going to burst or maybe just go up in flame. His cock is rock hard and he wants to bury it into Yunho’s warmth over and over again until he’s sobbing his name. 

“What do you want?” He rubs his thigh harder, encouraged when Yunho’s hips cant against him. 

“Touch me.” 

He smiles against Yunho’s throat. ( _Teeth like little razors, slashing at him, making him vibrate with fearpaniclust. “Hope you like scarves, Changminnieee…” he sang at him._ ) 

“I am touching you, hyung,” he says, but he can’t disobey that little whine and look that Yunho gives him, the one where he is literally responsible for every good thing happening to him, and he reaches down and slides his hand underneath Yunho’s pants and palms his cock smoothly, gently pinching the wet tip between his thumb and forefinger. 

He captures Yunho’s sigh with his mouth, sucking on his tongue, wanting every bit of his everything. He speeds up his hand, needing Yunho as destroyed as he feels. 

“Ha, more,” Yunho gasps, his lashes fluttering across his cheekbones like a shadow and Changmin complies, his arm burning, his breathing raw in his throat. 

“You’re going to come for me,” Changmin demands, jerking him hard and fast, not bothering with being gentle. Yunho doesn’t seem to mind, especially judging by the sheer amount of precum making his hand slick and the highpitched whines coming from him. 

“Yes,” he hisses and Changmin is gone, dropping his hold on his wrists in order to press his forearm against Yunho’s windpipe. 

“Give it to me, hyung,” he practically growls, watching as Yunho gulps for air, feeling the power over him like a headrush that drowns out all other thoughts. “Fucking cum for me. It’s mine. _You’re_ mine. You’re so beautiful and you’re _mine, mine, mine_.” 

Yunho does, shaking like a leaf, his mouth open in a silent scream as he spills his cum all over Changmin’s hand. Changmin milks him, dragging every inch of his orgasm out of him, wanting it all. Yunho’s nails are dug deep into Changmin’s arm, almost deep enough to draw blood, and Changmin is gasping, the pain and the site of Yunho ravaged in front of him making his own orgasm draw near, even though he’s barely been touched. 

_“Such a slut for it, Changminnie.”_

The voice burns through his brain and he realises what he’s doing to his precious Yunho, his one and only sun, he flinches back from him. Yunho takes a huge gasp of air when Changmin’s arm is gone. There are bruises around his wrists and Changmin feels the hot fire of arousal slam into his gut, followed very quickly by an overwhelming sense of guilt. 

“I’m sorry,” Changmin says, his voice almost a slur, his erection feeling gross and shameful. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He sinks to the floor, covering his face. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.” He feels Yunho’s arms wrap around him as he sits and shakes. 

… 

“I like pain,” Changmin blurts out, his hands wrapped around a cup of coffee that Yunho has made him back at the dorm. 

Yunho’s eyes widen slightly, but he just calmly takes a sip from his own cup. “I see,” he says. “You get off on people hurting you?” 

Changmin closes his eyes. He wants to deny it. Say that that part of him died a lot time ago. But he knows that if Jaejoong walked through that door, they’d greet each other, then fight, then within minutes, he’d be face down, ass up, begging for it in every way except with words. “Yes,” he admits harshly. 

“Do you want me to hurt you?” 

The thought almost makes him laugh. Gentle, loving Yunho hurt him? He couldn’t hurt him if he tried. He shook his head. “No, hyung. Not you. I don’t want you to hurt me.” 

He opens his eyes to look at Yunho. At first, Yunho looks mildly annoyed, then understanding dawns. 

“Oh,” he says softly, and Changmin puts his head down on his arms again. What he says next, though, makes his head shoot up. 

“Okay.” 

“What?” Changmin demands, not quite sure he’s hearing correctly. 

Yunho shrugs and sips his coffee. “Obviously, I enjoyed what we did, so really, there’s no reason why we shouldn’t keep going. After setting some ground rules and safe words and all that.” 

Changmin stares for several minutes, then puts his head back down on his arms, his shoulders shaking. Of course. Yunho is always ahead of him. 

He’s not sure whether he’s laughing or crying. 

… 

He’s naked, tied up on his bed, and Changmin can finally use his mouth to his advantage, licking a slow line down Yunho’s perfect spine. He knows that their outfits are backless this time around, so he makes sure that the only darkened red marks are all down around his hips. Changmin feels a rush of pride at every one. 

Yunho’s breathing hard, his face mashed into the pillow as he angles his hips up against Changmin’s fingers as he slowly works him open. 

“Fuck, Changdol-ah, your hand…” he gasps, which isn’t really a beg, but the need in it has Changmin shaking with want. 

“Do you feel how your asshole is sucking me in,” he croons into Yunho’s ear instead, sliding his two fingers deep, feeling the lube squelch obscenely around his fingers and run down Yunho’s perineum towards his balls. “Does it really want my cock that badly?” 

“Yes,” Yunho hisses and Changmin pulls his hand out to deliver a sharp blow to the flesh of his ass, the skin turning bright red almost immediately. Yunho bites off a yell, burying his face into the pillow, and Changmin feels it reverberate down his spine. His hand makes contact with another sharp _crack_ and then immediately slides his fingers back into Yunho’s ass, relishing the brokenness in Yunho’s moan. 

“Gonna fill you up,” he promises, keeping his fingers slow and smooth, pulling out randomly to spank him just to admire the sight of the red imprint of his hand before going back to fingering Yunho’s asshole until it is loose and sloppy and waiting for him. “Gonna fuck your ass so hard, you’ll feel me in your throat,” he continues, and gives his ass another succession of hits, each stronger than the last, until Yunho is straining against the ties that hold him to the headboard, and his cock is dripping precum, dark red and angry and desperate. Changmin has never seen anything more beautiful. 

“Yes, please,” Yunho pleads, turning his head to look at him through hooded eyes, colour riding high on his cheeks. And as always, Changmin is weak to that look, weak for him, so he shifts behind him and smacks him again before digging his fingers into the tender flesh of his ass, pulling him open so he can slide his cock up the crack, feeling his hot skin and cool lube. 

Yunho hisses and moans and throws his hips backwards against him, and Changmin can’t even breathe with how gorgeous he looks writhing underneath him, so he uses his thumb to press the head of his cock into Yunho, watching it swallow him inside slowly. 

“Ch…ang- ah…” Yunho’s fingers are scrabbling in the air, unable to find purchase against anything. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” Changmin hisses, pumping shallowly in and out, watching Yunho’s hole stretch and mold around the crown of his dick, feeling a thousand stories tall. Finally, unable to take it anymore, he digs his hands into Yunho’s hips and pulls him back against hips, burying himself balls-deep inside. 

He fucks him mercilessly, one hand clawed into his hip, the other going in between Yunho’s shoulder blades, pushing him facedown into the mattress. Yunho gives as good as he gets, moaning loudly, rocking backwards into him, chanting various choked off versions of Changmin’s name. 

It’s simply too much for him. He’s wanted this for so long and now he’s beautiful and underneath him, calling _his_ name, imprinted with _his_ hand and mouth marks, forever _his his his_. With a moan, he leans down and sinks his teeth into the flesh of Yunho’s shoulder as his hips stutter and his balls boil and he is filling Yunho with his cum, pulling out at the last second in order to stripe the last few shots across his bright red ass. 

The sight of his jizz smeared across Yunho’s skin and leaking out of his ass hits Changmin like a punch to the gut, and he growls and buries his face in his skin, running his tongue over the stretched ring of muscle, tasting his own cum and Yunho’s sweat. It’s all his. 

“Ah! Ung- ha!” Yunho has been reduced to simple cries of need, and Changmin takes pity on him, reaching around to wrap his fingers around his cock and jerk him off firmly. 

That’s how Yunho cums, Changmin’s tongue deep in his ass, his back arched almost backwards, his fingers clawing into empty air, Changmin’s name a harsh shout. 

They collapse on the bed together, Changmin’s head resting on the warm skin of Yunho’s back, bringing his hand up to lick some of Yunho’s cum off of it, his head buzzing with the taste of his release. One brought about by him. After a second, he slides upwards and undoes the ties that hold Yunho’s wrists captive. 

“Thank you, hyung,” he murmurs into the skin of his back, pressing soft kisses there, grateful and honoured and desperately, desperately in love with Jung Yunho. 

_It’s always cold as soon as Jaejoong leaves, cold and miserable and Changmin can only try and make himself angry enough to cry so that he doesn’t pine to be held instead._

Yunho flips over and rubs his wrists briefly before pulling Changmin into a cuddle, tucking the taller man underneath his chin and rubbing his back. “That was good,” he breathes into Changmin’s hair, and Changmin just pulls him closer, choked up. 

Changmin might be broken inside, but Yunho is so bright, it sure feels like all his shards are sparkling instead. 


End file.
